Blue Coated Freak
by spearofhope
Summary: An Ancient SH4, post 21 sacriments Story. It's short, and there's not much to say about it. I can't undersell it enough, but who knows, you might be entertained briefly if you make strange decision to read it. "In the world that Walter creates, there is very little to despise. but some people kinda need something to despise anyways, you know?"


Alright, inspiration strikes and so I write my first silent hill fic. Enjoy.

Blue Coated Freak

Spearofhope

October 24, 2007

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters shown in this fic. They belong solely to Konami Entertainment, as well as all things related to the silent hill series.

Richard watches warily as Billy and Miriam play hopscotch in the South Ashfield Heights courtyard. He stands, waiting for them to do something to anger him. Anything at all could cause him to fly into a rage, and he was more than willing to let go of sanity. He'd never really liked kids, and he'd lived right next to a bunch for 13 of the 34 years he'd lived at the apartment building. And now he lives right next to two of the most annoying brats he'd ever laid eyes on. Well, lived isn't exactly the right term. He was dead after all.

He honestly was really only moderately angered by the kids that had lived next door to his old room, and he had truly liked that kid that was only a few years old when Richard moved in. what was his name? He thought, recalling the short, blond kid. James, that was it. He was always under the protection of his dad, the super. He still got into a load of trouble, though. He kind of reminded the graying man of his childhood. They were kindred spirits, in a way. But that one kid, the long haired, blond, orphan, that was always snooping around was a different case. He was too quiet, but when he got in front of that door, he let loose all of the noise he held back. Man, that kid was determined. It figures he'd end up done in by the brat.

Richard shrugged off the train of thought and continued watching the kids. He wasn't alone, no. two of the others always hung around the kids, too. The old guy, Andrew, seemed to be used to watching kids, and he entertained himself by reminiscing over the old days, whatever they were. He was often caught mumbling to himself, and in the time he was alone, the others said he was always singing. Richard had never seen it, and since the only two who had seen it, Toby and Peter, were potheads, who really knew what was true?

The other that watched over the kids was Sharon Blake, whose family was lost to her for most of her life. She was more engaging, walking up to the kids, playing with them. Richard thought it was funny they trusted her so much, when she had lost her mind searching for her family, back when she was alive. It's a bit of a shame that blue coated jackass killed her right after she found her son's grave. She still seems pretty out of it. But once again, she is dead…

Bored, Richard walked away from the courtyard and ran into the two tenants of apartment 302, Joseph and Henry. They were sitting around, talking about what it was like during their final days in the room. Joseph was retelling how he was murdered, and Henry listened with a pad of red paper in his hand, listing down everything he said. Richard's sight passed right over the grisly numbers, 21/21, carved into Henrys Forehead. Richard was used to those minor wounds. For the most part, most of the 21 victim's wounds were healed when the ritual was completed, but the numbers remained as testimonies to the blue coated man's work. Richard's fingers trailed over the numbers 19/21 etched into his forehead. It was different for all of them; 18/21 was carved into Andrew's stomach, 20/21 was carved into Eileen's back, and, as Cynthia had reported, 11/21 was carved into blue coat's feet. She had called him 'Walter', but Richard didn't care. The blood-sucking murderer didn't deserve a name.

He walked away from the courtyard and neared the tiny convenience store on the first floor of the large office building opposite. He entered, and looked around. Since Walter had finished, he'd ensured his victims were relatively happy. He grabbed a bag of snacks and walked out. Jasper, Bobby and Sein were sitting in a semicircle around the wall, drawing stupid cult emblems little Wally had shown them. Richard walked out of the store, mumbling to himself, "idiots…" the door rattled as It slammed back into place.

Along the way back to his apartment he came across the huge sprawling complex of the south ashfield hotel. Although only about a third of it was really part of the hotel, it was still all dominated by the rooftops and labyrinthine stairs and hallways of the building. Also, the entrance was dominated by the gigantic sign that read _Hotel Ashfield,_ so most of those who entered that maze thought of it as such. It was mostly desolate, but it was still inhabited by 4 of the victims who owned or worked at shops there, Eric, Will, Rick, and Steve. They mostly stay to themselves. Richard almost never sees them…

When Richard returned, he found peter sitting on the swings, staring at the ground. His beanie hung loosely from his thin head, and almost fell off several times as he swung back and forth. His eyes drifted from stick to stick, back and forth, like a metronome. Whatever was going on in his shell of a brain, Richard didn't want to know. As he walked away from the teen, he scratched his head in thought. A bit of skin tore off. "Damn" he said out loud. He had almost forgotten how weak his skin had become since he was electrocuted to death. It healed almost instantly, but it still hurt like it would have when he was alive. Damn that blue coated bastard, who does he think he is? Having the nerve to exchange our lives for this freaky existence! What kind of a psycho freak would do such a messed up thing? That was it. He would have to have a little chat with Cynthia.

He stormed past Jimmy and George, who were now conversing with jasper and Sein in the apartment lobby. How the hell did they beat him here? Richard thought, but paid no attention. He leapt up the steps, two at a time. Eileen was wandering down the stairs, with Henry happily taking photos of her, as well as Joseph and the others in the stairwell. 'Why the hell are you all so complacent?' thought Richard as he charged up the stairs, 'We've been killed! We're **dead**! He stumbled up through the doorway to the 300 rooms, and he almost toppled over Cynthia in the hall. "oh, hi Richard…" she said monotonously. "Where's the bastard!" he yelled "Where's that blue coated freak?"

"Geez, don't yell. He's where he always is. Room 302. But I wouldn't go in the…" Richard began running again and arrived at the door. He shoved open the door and found Walter happily sitting with his legs tucked into his chest, in the small cubbyhole in between the couch and the end table. The blond mumbled "I missed you mom. I missed you so much…" he looked up and noticed Richard. "Yes?" he seemed calm and ready. But the way The man looked, curled up in a ball, like a child in his mother's womb, he was struck speechless. 'I guess it's not that bad…' thought Richard. "N-Nothing Walter." He mumbled, and then left the room slowly.


End file.
